The Odds Have Never Been Very Dependable
by Nerdius
Summary: Unlikely alliances will rise in the frozen wasteland of this year's arena.
1. Chapter 1

**The Odds Have Never Been Very Dependable**

**Chapter One: Alek**

Sun shined through his window, and Aleksander Hohenberg rolled over in his sleep, trying in vain to catch the last part of his quickly fleeting dream. It was already nearly faded. All he could remember was that it was a good dream. Something about a giant airship...

With a slightly annoyed sigh, he sat up, tossing the covers aside. There was no way he could go back to sleep, not with all the noise of District 1 bustling outside his window. Everybody was preparing for this year's Reaping, parties were being thrown, everybody hoping that their son or daughter would get chosen for the fantastic chance at being a tribute.

Alek swung his feet over the side of the bed. In all honesty, he was probably the only person who _didn't _want to be a tribute in this entire District. Who wanted to be sent to an arena where they'd most likely be killed? It was completely idiotic. However, he didn't complain when he was sent to learn to fight, to train for the games. While he _did _find it stupid, on the off chance he did get reaped, he needed to know how to defend himself.

There was a rapid knock on his door. Before Alek could protest, his mother opened the door and walked in. She looked around and clicked her tongue at the state of her son's room. "Really, Aleksander," She sighed. "You could've cleaned up just a bit!"

He mumbled a quiet apology, getting out of bed fully and picking up the scattered bits of clothing that laid on the floor. His mother rolled her eyes, "The celebrations will begin soon, so please make yourself look presentable." She smiled. "And, who knows, you might have the honor of being chosen as tribute!" She turned and left the room, and Alek sighed.

"Well, that would be quite the honor," He mumbled sarcastically. "Chosen to die. Don't I feel special."

Once he'd gotten the last of his dirty clothes, he tossed them in a hole against the wall, one that connected to the laundry system of the house. Within the hour, his clothes would be clean again, and instantly stored back in his closet.

After that was done, he walked into his own personal bathroom and took a quick shower, not bothering with the several settings and buttons he could press to change the scent and whatnot. He just wanted to get this day, Reaping and celebrations, over with as quickly as possible. Once finished with that task, he got dressed. His mother insisted he wear something nice, like the other children do. So, he ended up deciding on a simple button-down shirt, dress pants and shoes.

With a sigh of discontent, he ran his fingers through his hair. _Better get this over with, _he thought.

He headed downstairs, ready to face what the day brought for him.

* * *

Alek came into the foyer of the house, ignoring the bustling of people in the kitchen and avoiding one person making a beeline for the bathroom. Since his father was the mayor, his family and him were supposed to hold a celebration. All the children who had been training to Games, and their families were invited.

When he entered the foyer he spotted about ten people from training, and about nine of them he disliked their entire essence. Most of them were headstrong, and assumed every situation could be solved with mindless, brute force, as opposed to wit. He'd beaten every one of those students. But then, there were the ones who were just rude, and have very dark personalities.

The only person he liked - or, well, enjoyed talking to - was a boy a few years younger than himself, named Ernst. He was only thirteen, but could handle a spear just as well as eighteen-year-old Rickon. Like Alek, however, he normally tried to avoid all fighting, trying to use his words to talk himself out of a situation.

In fact, Ernst was standing at the far corner, drinking water from a wineglass. When he spotted Alek, he brightened a bit. The boy never really talked to anyone his age, most of his peers finding him a bit odd. So, Alek assumed he was his only friend, just as it was reversed.

Alek walked over to the boy, "Afternoon, Ernst."

"Hi, Alek," He greeted with a small smile. "You ready for the Reaping? Excited? Hoping to be picked?" Ernst didn't bother hiding the sarcasm in his tone. Nobody was paying them much attention, and Ernst shared his view on the Games. "I'm just _praying _that I will get to be the _lucky _one to get picked for such an _honor_."

"Ernst, you're just bursting with enthusiasm, aren't you," Alek chuckled. The younger boy made a face and took another sip from his water. "In all honesty, I'm just trying to go through this day unnoticed. And, who knows," Alek nudged the boy with his elbow. "Maybe Spark will get Reaped."

"Is it wrong that I'm not hoping for that," He mumbled into his glass. Alek sighed. As much as he disliked the boy, after all he's tormented Ernst, and _tried _to torment Alek for years now, but he didn't even wish the fate of the Games onto him.

"Not at all," Alek told him, placing his hand on the Ernst's shoulders. "There's nothing wrong with that."

Some more students from school entered after Alek said that, and shot up a rather loud and rowdy conversation. Ernst said something to him, but he couldn't hear it over the yelling his peers. He was tempted to yell at them to be quiet, but that would only cause a fight, and his mother just cleaned up the foyer. He didn't want to be responsible for ruining it again.

He felt a tap on his shoulder, and looked over. Ernst jerked his head towards the hallway the led to the second foyer (why the mayor's house had to of them was beyond his knowledge). When the older boy nodded, the two of them weaved their way through the crowd, Ernst first. Alek stayed behind for a moment to grab his own glass of water, and to swipe a dessert from the kitchen, before joining his friend in the second room.

"How are we from the same district as them," Ernst muttered, shaking his head. Alek shrugged, and leaned against the wall. There was a short silence, before the boy asked, "Alek, I'm not gonna lie...I'm scared."

This took him by surprise. Normally, Ernst was calmer than Alek about the Games. He never seemed frightened by it. Though, last time he was just one name in hundreds. He's getting older, getting more entries. Sure, nobody pulled for tessarae in the higher districts, but the previous year there were many eighteen-year-old kids were now no longer eligible. His chances of being drawn had skyrocketed.

It only took him a few seconds to compose his words. "I'd be concerned if you weren't, Ernst. In the face of death, anyone sane would be scared." He took a cautious sip of his water. "I'm scared, too. Every time this day comes, I'm terrified that I'm going to be Reaped, and I'm not going to see my family again." He put a comforting hand on Ernst's shoulder. "But we can't let that rule our thoughts."

"Easier said than done," He mumbled.

There was a knock on the door, and Alek's mother stepped inside. She smiled warmly at the two boys before saying, "Everybody's meeting in the formal dining room. You'd better hurry if you don't want to miss your father's speech!" She turned and hurried down the hall, leaving the teenagers alone again.

Ernst sighed. "We just got in here, too."

Alek shrugged, and gestured to the door. "Well, we'd better head in and hear that speech. It seems _very _important."

* * *

When Alek and Ernst rejoined the others, they were all already situated in the formal dining room, forcing the two of them to stand in the doorway, looking over the shoulders of some student's parents. Alek's father stood at the head of the large dining table, smiling at all the people that were cramming into the rather large room.

"Good Afternoon, everyone," He said, his smiling turning into a grin. "I welcome you, and wish you all good luck in the Reaping today. Hopefully, the odds may be in your favor this day." He eyed his son, and Alek could tell he was hoping that he'd be drawn.

"You've all trained long and hard. For some of you, this is your last chance, your last opportunity to be drawn." He eyed Rickon, who had straightened up. "Yet, for some of you, it's your first chance to shine, and to prove that the young can prevail just as easily." A twelve-year-old girl, by the name of Queen, beamed. "No matter your age, you all have equal chance of being drawn, and equal chance of proving yourself worth of the entire district's respect.

"However, if you are not drawn, we all expect you to cheer and help the one of who is to the best of your ability. That means, sponsoring them, donating as much money as you can spare to them." Franz looked at all the teenagers, trying to get that point across. Almost all of them nodded in acknowledgment, but Alek knew almost none of them were really intending to help the unfortunate two who were drawn.

"Now, with that out of the way, it's time for the Reaping to begin." Alek's father's grin returned, but this time it was shared with everybody in the room, the only exceptions being Alek himself and Ernst. "Happy 74th Annual Hunger Games, my friends! May the odds ever be in your favor!"

Instantly the room began to cheer. Ernst and Alek had to scurry out of the doorway to avoid being trampled as everybody rushed out so they could get to the town square as quickly as possible. The two of them waited as the horde of people seemed to continue endlessly, neither saying a word, but both knowing what the other was thinking: _The odds have _never _been in anyone's favor. _

It took only a few more seconds for the room to be emptied, and the two boys stepped forward to follow everybody out when Franz's called out, "Alek, come here please."

Ernst turned towards his friend, and gave a shaky smile. "I'll meet you by the statue of the President," He told him, before setting his glass down and walking out of the building. Alek took a deep breath, and entered the dinning room. His mother and father were standing side by side, now at the opposite end, the one closest to the doorway. They were facing him, and he looked down at the ground for only a moment before meeting their gaze.

"Yes," Alek asked, stiffening.

His mother smiled at him, "Oh, stop, you're not in trouble." She walked up to her son, and wrapped him in a hug. "We just want to wish you luck. It's a big day, after all." Letting him go, Alek could see her smile had turned into a grin, and there were tears of happiness in her eyes. "I just feel like something big is going to happen today. Who knows, you might get picked!"

_You have no idea how much I'm hoping you're wrong, _he thought as his father stepped forward, hugging him as well.

"Just know that your mother and I are proud of you, no matter what happens today." He released him, but kept one hand on his shoulder. "You've grown into a fine young man."

Alek blinked, surprised at the sudden show of emotion. Normally, his father didn't reveal much of what he was feeling, or, at least, not to him. He almost felt tears pricking at the edge of his eyes, but forced them away. There was no crying right before a Reaping.

"You should get going." His mother fixed his hair, slightly. "Ernst is probably getting anxious waiting for you. Soon he's just going to sign in without you." Alek nodded and turned to go. He stopped as he was about to pass over the doorway, looking over his shoulder.

After a few seconds of consideration, he said, "I love you."

His mother didn't bother hiding her tears now, and even his father looked like he was holding back tears of his own. "Oh, Alek," His mother smiled, wiping away some tears as they fell down her cheeks. "We love you too, so much. We'll be out in just a moment."

Alek nodded, and then turned back. He took another deep breath, calming his thoughts, before heading out the door, and to the Reaping.

* * *

**So, yeah. This is done. **

**I've been thinking about writing a crossover for these two series for a while now, but never gotten anything down on solid paper. However, as you can tell, that's all different. **

**Besides, I _really_ need to write fic for more than just PJATO.**

**To anybody who reads/reviews, I have a big question for you all. I need to know as soon as possible whether or not you want me to write the entire rebellion, or just this Game. And, if the latter, who would you rather win, Alek or Deryn?**

**Anyways, here's the first chapter! Hope you enjoyed it! Tell me what you think!**

**-Jules **


	2. Chapter 2

**The Odds Have Never Been Dependable**

**Chapter Two: Alek**

For once, Alek was grateful for the rather close layout District 1 adopted, and even more so that the Mayor's house was only a few blocks from the town square. Instead of weaving through the rushing crowds of children and parents alike, he took a few shortcuts. The roads he took were much quieter, and made getting to the Square much easier.

He jogged down the streets, squinting as the sun shined off of the metal buildings and pavement. The District often annoyingly overused the silvery material, making practically every structure out of it. During the summer, they had to wear sunglasses to avoid being blinded. But, that was because of the Capitol influence.

It only took a few minutes for Alek to arrive at the base of the statue of President Snow, located on the Southern side of the square. Alek didn't remember when the statue was placed there, or why for that matter. It seemed incredibly out of place, a large stone man glowering down at the people as they milled about in a city made of steel. Alek remembered asking his father about it, but never really getting an answer.

He spotted Ernst leaning against the base of the statue, arms crossed and tapping his foot impatiently. Alek weaved through the crowd, and tapped onto the younger boy's shoulder. He jumped, and when he spotted Alek stifling a smirk, he gave him a weak punch in the arm. "That wasn't necessary," He said, rubbing his arm.

"Yes, but you deserved it." Ernst shrugged, pushing off of the statue. He stretched his back, before sighing and running his fingers through his hair. "I guess we should get in line. It's just going to get longer." Alek noticed a slight quaver in his voice, and then noticed his hands were shaking. _He really is terrified, _he thought to himself. Before he could talk to him, to try and reassure that his chances of getting drawn were in his favor, the boy turned quickly and joined the nearest registration line. With a short sigh, he shook his head and walked to join him.

The line moved relatively quickly, the other kids practically running through the process. Alek and Ernst didn't have to wait very long before it was their turn to sign in, and then be escorted to their appropriate age group sections. While Ernst was placed closer to the back of the stage, him only being thirteen, Alek was placed near the front with the older boys. Out of all the age groups, Alek's group, the sixteen-year-olds, were the smallest, followed by the eighteen-year-olds. The largest were the twelve-year-olds, and Alek felt pity for them. Even if they were placed in training, the first reaping is always the hardest.

"Alek," He heard somebody say from beside him. He didn't need to turn to know whom it was.

"What do you want, Spark," He asked, not taking his gaze off of the stage in front of them.

"Just would like to wish you luck in the Reaping. You need it after all. Like a wimp like you could survive the bloodbath," Spark let out a chuckle whilst Alek fought the urge to roll his eyes. That would only entice the bully more, and continue to bother him until his temper snapped. Fighting during a Reaping was against the law.

Alek cleared his throat, "My memory might be a bit muddled, Spark, but, I recall that in the last match you challenged me to, I beat you." He looked up to think for a moment. "In fact, I think that was my fourteenth consecutive win against you." Spark sputtered in indignation, and Alek tried to fight off the smirk that was pulling at his lips. Before the second boy could shoot back a reply, Alek's father stepped up and bean to speak. He recited the same speech that he recites every year, telling about the story of Panem and how it rose out of the rubble of a country formerly called North America. Then he moved onto the Dark Days, the days in which the districts rebelled against the Capitol. During these days, there had been a thirteenth district, which had been destroyed with the signing of the Treaty of Treason.

Another result of the treaty was The Hunger Games.

His father continued on, listing the extensive list of previous winners. Recently, however, there haven't been as many District 1 victories, most going to District 2. However, there were a few. Bellona Rodgeview was the only female victor, the others having passed away, but there were several male victors, more than Alek knew the names of.

"And, now," He concluded. "I'd like you to give a warm welcome to the District's escort, Castor Pendlecarr."

A young man, whom Alek assumed was somewhere in his mid-thirties (you could never be too sure with Capitol citizens. They're _always _paying for surgeries to help them look younger). He has bright green hair, and wore a carnation yellow suit. Just looking at the man made his eyes hurt.

"Hello, District 1!" The man grinned. Alek winced at the high-pitched Capitol accent. "And Happy Hunger Games! May the odds ever be in your favor! It's quite the pleasure to be here, today. As you know, it's time for the tribute drawing. It's a great honor being chosen to participate in these Games, I'm sure you all know." Next to him, Spark straightened up, like he was expecting to be drawn. Alek was amazed how he dumbly followed the belief that being drawn to die for a stupid cause was honorable.

Caesar moved over to one of the two glass spheres on the stage, which were both filled halfway with tribute names. One was filled with the names of the girls, while the other was filled with boys. "As tradition, ladies first!"

He dug his hand in, shifting through the slips, before withdrawing one. Caesar walked to the center of the stage, and then read the name in a clear voice.

"Riva Castlefall."

A cheer went up, one that Alek did not join into, as a girl a year older than Alek walked confidently to the stage with a giant smirk. She had raven black hair, which fell past her shoulders in elegant curls, and startlingly pale skin. He recognized the girl, she was always training at the school. When she walked up to the stage, she stared at the crowd with cold, calculating light blue eyes that made Alek have to suppress a shiver. She smiled, relishing in her, apparently, good luck. Caesar asked for a round of applause, and another large cheer went up.

"Time to pick the lucky lad who will be heading to the Games with her!" He cheered with the same zeal as the citizens. He moved over to the other sphere, and repeated the routine of digging through the names. As soon as he chose one, Alek felt all a chill run up his spine, and the color drain from his face. He had a terrible feeling, like his stomach was doing flips.

When Caesar read the name from the slip, he understood why.

"Ernst Bettleman."

Another cheer went up, and Alek spun around to see Ernst walking up slowly, trying his best to hide the terror that was plainly obvious in his eyes. Their eyes connected, and Alek's stomach plummeted. The boy was only thirteen years old! It shouldn't be right for him to be sent off to die! _He _should've been drawn! He was older, and his name was in more three more times than Ernst's! _The boy didn't deserve to die. _

Alek's feet were moving before her realized what he was doing. He was pushing his way through the other boys, and when he got out of the group, Ernst had made it to where his section cut off was. Ernst's eyes widened when he saw what the older boy was intending to do, and tried to shake his head, but Alek didn't acknowledge that. He easily ran up and pulled the younger boy behind him. The cheering got even louder when Alek shouted, "I volunteer as tribute!"

"No!" He heard Ernst gasp from behind him, but that didn't stop Alek as he marched towards the stage, his head held high, despite the terror in his heart. His father was smiling, but there was a distinct pained look in his eyes, that made him have to look away. He couldn't afford to get emotional. Not now, with all of Panem watching him. Riva smiled at him as he joined her on stage.

Caesar put an arm around his shoulder, and asked merrily, "Well, lad! What's your name?"

He stiffened, but told him, "Aleksander Hohenberg."

The escort grinned, and released him, walking to the front of the stage, "Let's give the young man a round of applause!" After another cheer, he spun around on his heel and prompted Riva and him to shake hands. Riva stuck her hand out with a smile, and Alek, reluctantly, shook, giving her a smile that he hoped didn't look as fake as it really was.

* * *

The two of them were escorted into City Hall after they shook hands by several dozen Peacekeepers, and taken to separate rooms. Alek paced the room he was put in, wondering if anybody was going to come in. After being Reaped, tributes were allowed to say goodbye to family and friends before taken onto the train to the Capitol.

He heard the door open, and he spun around to see his mother and father rushing in. He met his mother as she ran across the room and threw her arms around him, wrapping him in a bone-crushing hug, one which his father quickly joined into. He could feel his mother shaking as she cried, and when she pulled away, her eyes were already red with tears. She pulled him down, to sit on the couch next to her, and held his hand.

"Alek, please, be careful," She told him, wiping the tears from her eyes. "Listen to your mentors. They know what to do in the Games." She looked like she wanted to say more, but her voice broke. With a small sob, she wrapped him in another hug. Alek looked over her shoulder to see his father standing, trying to keep his face free from any emotion. He could not, however, stop the tears that were silently streaming down his face. Alek felt tears prick at his eyes but forced them away.

"Parents shouldn't have to bury their child," He thought he heard his father mumble, sitting down in a chair that was against the wall. He put his head in his hands, and ran his fingers through his hair.

Alek felt like he had to say something, but when he spoke, his voice was soft. If he spoke any louder, he knew his voice would break, "I love you both, and I'll try my hardest in the Arena. I'll try to come back."

His mother let go of him, and managed a smile. "That's all we ask, sweetheart." She leaned forward and kissed his forehead. There was a knock on the door. The Peacekeeper outside was signaling to them that time was almost up. His mother gave him one last hug, as did his father, before they were ushered out of the room.

It was only moments later when Ernst came into the room. The boy looked, if anything, enraged.

"_I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU DID THAT!_" He yelled. Alek winced, as the younger boy paced the room, mumbling curses under his breath."Do you have a death wish? You idiot!" With a sigh, he sank into the chair his father had been sitting in moments earlier.

Alek sighed. He began to speak, but Ernst cut him off. "No, you don't have to explain yourself. I know your reasoning..." The boy sat forward. "Thank you...for volunteering for me." He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to think of what else to say. "Just...you're allowed to have a token, something to remember your District by." He pulled something from around his neck, and gave it to Alek. "Take this, alright? I've always considered it a good luck charm. Maybe it'll help you in the arena."

He looked down, and fingered the gold colored chain. On it was a wring, completely made out of clockwork gears, making an intricate design. He slipped it around his neck and fingered it absently. "Thank you...if I make it back, I'll be sure to return it to you."

"No, keep it," Ernst insisted. He then moved onto Games advice, "They'll probably have a sword for you to use. Not sure if they'll have your favorite saber, though. Good thing you can pretty much handle any sword with ease. But, try to avoid all confrontation. You'll stay alive longer if you let the other tributes kill themselves first." Alek opened his mouth, but Ernst continued to talk. "Sure, they'll be expecting you to join up with the other trained tributes, but that doesn't seem like the smartest move. Leave them at the Cornucopia, after taking a few things of course. If you _do_ form an alliance, it should be with someone who not only can handle themselves, but whom you can trust."

The Peacekeeper gave a warning knock, but the boy ignored it. "The other tributes will slit your throat in your sleep, and have no regrets about it. Trust is important in the Games. Seek it out."

The door swung open, and the Peacekeeper marched in, but Ernst stood up. "Yeah, I know. Time's up. I'm going, alright?" He turned to Alek, and nodded. "Good luck in the Arena." The Peacekeeper grabbed the boy's arm, and dragged him out of the room.

After Ernst, Alek received no more visitors.

* * *

**HUP, HERE'S CHAPTER TWO.**

**Next is Deryn's! **

**I think it's pretty much decided that I am, indeed, writing the entire rebellion.**

**OnionGrass- I'm not having Deryn dress up as a man, considering there are female tributes, but Alek's favorite mentor (or, well, the one who seems to try and get him through the Games) is Volger! :D **

**Winterowl312- Thanks! :D If I wrote the rebellion it was going to be divided up into three parts, like the original series. And, yes, there's going to be Deryn chapters. In Leviathan, they alternated POV every two chapters, and that's what's going to happen in here too. **

**AngelRulesTheWorldWeLiveIn- Awww, thanks! :D **

**Jett- Under normal circumstances, yeah Deryn would totally win. She's such a boss. aksjdalskdj. **

**Eve Meah - Deryn's from Distrcit 10, which is the District of Livestock. I'm intending to continue this. Plus I have many friends who will remind me if I forget/procrastinate. I also really enjoy this fic, so... :3 **

**See you all in chapter 3! **

**-Jules**


	3. Chapter 3

**The Odds Have Never Been Very Dependable**

**Chapter Three: Deryn**

Deryn looked down at the dress her mother had set out with her with a bit of distaste. It wasn't like the dress wasn't all that pretty, it was. It was a light green, with white accents on the sleeve cuffs (that were about midway down her arm) and collar, and fell to about her knees. However, she always felt so... _awkward_ in them. With her slim, very boyish, five foot ten frame, most dresses didn't look all that good on her. Plus, she hated all the endless teasing her brother gave her when she wore one, the little bum-rag.

"Can't I wear pants," She asked her mother, who was busily fussing over Deryn's hair, making sure it looked nice. She wondered why her mother bothered. There wasn't much a person could do with her short sandy blonde hair cut (a "_pixie cut_" she heard a girl describe it as). Her mother was smoothing it down, trying to make sure it didn't stick up in odd places as it normally did.

Her mother sighed. Deryn was about to accept the fact she would be forced to wear the accursed garment, when she heard her mother say, "Leggings, alright? With those boots you like wearing, the ones you use to hunt with? The brown leather ones. I think it will look nice together." Deryn almost fell out of her chair in shock. Her mother was actually telling her she could wear some pants with her dress? Then she remembered what the day was. The Reaping Day.

No wonder why her mother was being kind. It may be her last chance.

She felt her mother kiss the top of her head. "I'm going to check on your brother, why don't you finish getting ready." Deryn nodded, and her mother left the room quietly, leaving Deryn sitting alone.

She sighed, and walked towards the dresser where she kept her clothes. They were all pretty much the same, slim fitting pants that made hunting easier, the long sleeve shirts and her only nice leather jacket. Hidden underneath a scarf, she found the leggings rolled up and grabbed them. After she slipped them, and the dress, on she looked around for where she last left her hunting boots. _  
_

There they were, sitting by the door to her room. She must have kicked them off when she'd gotten back from her last hunting trip.

Normally, hunting in the Districts was illegal. You were supposed to be whipped publicly until you were on Death's door. However, their District, District 10, bordered part of the Wild, and wolves and other creatures would often bury underneath the electric wire fence that separated the two, and attack the herds of sheep, cows, and other animals that the District depended on for money. This caused a lot of problems. So, when citizens who knew how to hunt started using the tunnels the wolves created to enter the Wild and hunt, the Peacekeepers had no problems with it, as long as they killed a few predators while they were out.

She slipped them on, tying up the laces quickly, before exiting her room.

The Sharp household wasn't that big, but it was large enough to hold two bedrooms, a small bath, and a connected living room and kitchen. She found her mother standing by the front door, with her older brother, Jaspert. She was fixing his hair, and smoothing the wrinkles of his blue plaid dress shirt. Along with that, he wore suspenders that held up his pants which were probably slightly big on him.

"Mum," He protested. "Ack, mum, I'm _fine!"_ He pushed her hand away. Jaspert looked up at Deryn and gave her a small smile, "Mum thinks my hair looks like a rat's nest."

"Well, it _is."_ Deryn shrugged, walking up to join them. "I could have sworn a saw a rodent sleeping in it when I woke you up this morning. Nearly gave me a barking heart attack." She nudged him with her elbow, and he stuck his tongue out at her. She rolled her eyes, but laughed all the same.

Her mother shot them a chastising look, but she didn't say anything else. Deryn and her brother shared a glance, and understood why she wasn't reprimanding them. It was better they joke and act like nothing would happen to them, rather than be quaking in their shoes with fear. Their chances of being drawn in the Reaping was incredibly large. Both of them had started getting _tessarae, _which entered their names into the pool more, when their father died almost two years ago. Plus, Jaspert was eighteen, the final year you're eligible for the games, but also the worst. Even without the additional names, he'd be entered seven times. With them, however, he'd be entered eighteen times, while Deryn would only be in thirteen times.

They odds of getting chosen weren't as bad as many people, but they were still not good.

It was almost one when she and her family left for the City Square, where a stage had been set up for the event. Once they'd signed in, Jaspert and Deryn quickly hugged their mother before going to their age sections. Jaspert was placed all the way in the front, right next to the stage, while Deryn was placed three sections away, with the fifteen year-olds. The sectioning was also divided up between genders, so she was stuck in the middle of some nervous lasses, who were twisting their skirts and trying not to cry.

She looked through the boys crowd until she saw somebody she recognized, Eugene Newkirk. He was sixteen-years-old, and probably one of Deryn's closest friends. The two of them befriended each other on the first day of a new school year, when both of them had gotten lost on their way to their classroom. He turned to her and jerked his head towards the stage then mouthed: _you nervous? _She shrugged in response.

At two the mayor stepped up and began giving the yearly speech. Deryn didn't really pay attention, after all, she'd pretty much memorized it. The only thing that differed was that a past victor died the previous year, leaving them with only one: Clyde Rigby.

Only when did Nora Barlow, their District escort, walk calmly onto the stage did she tune back in. Out of all the escorts, Deryn would have to say she liked Nora the most. She lacked the verve that the others had, being much more sober. She knew that everybody hated the Reaping, and she wasn't going to make it seem like a great big honor that a person was Reaped.

Nora took the microphone from the mayor with a small smile, before turning to the crowd. She cleared her throat, and simply said, "Ladies first." Another thing Deryn liked about their escort, she went straight to business.

She walked over towards the sphere containing the female names, and buried her hand down deep. When she lifted it, she was holding a single slip of paper. Smoothing as she walked back to the center of the stage, she read the name.

"Deryn Sharp."

Deryn's blood ran ice cold. Had she heard right? Did they really say _Deryn_ Sharp? There were plenty of people with that surname, and she couldn't be the only Deryn in her entire District.

It wasn't until somebody nudged, and she heard the whispers around her did she realize that she _had _been called. With a deep breath, Deryn lifted her chin a bit higher and weaved her way out of the group of fifteen-year-olds. She forced her hands to stop shaking, and to ignore the stares that were piercing her as she walked towards the stage.

Suddenly there was a cry from behind her. Deryn spun around just in time to see her brother rushing towards her, calling her name. Two Peacekeepers ran up and started dragging him away, but Jaspert was struggling against them. "_DERYN!"_ He screamed, and she forced herself to look away.

Silently, still ignoring the screams and protests of her brother, she marched up the stairs. There was no applause. Most of them knew who she was somehow. She was glad they weren't giving the Capitol what it wanted.

Nora nodded curtly at her, and walked to the male bowl.

While she was digging through it, Deryn scanned the crowd. Her brother had been forced back to the eighteen-year-old group section, but it was obvious he wanted to run up to her and volunteer. However, he couldn't. She was a girl, whilst he was a boy. People can only volunteer for tributes if they're the same gender. She spotted Eugene, whose eyes were wide in panic. If she had to guess, he wasn't expecting her to be drawn.

Deryn tuned back in when she realized the male tribute was about to be said.

"Dylan Grants."

Everyone turned as a boy, similar to Deryn in appearance, stepped out of the seventeen-year-old section. The fear was evident on his face, but he made his way calmly to the stage. Nobody cried out for him, no sister or brother begged him to stop moving. She recognized him from school. He sat a few seats in front of her in Math.

He joined her on the stage. Similar to her, nobody clapped for him. He shook her hand when they were prompted. Together, she, Dylan, and Nora all walked into the Justice Building behind them.

* * *

Deryn sat on the couch in her Interview Room, tapping her foot impatiently. She'd only been in there for a few minutes when the door swung open to reveal her mother and Jaspert. She ran inside, giving Deryn a bone-crushing hug, one that her brother quickly joined.

Nobody said anything for a little while. They all just sat together in a tight circle.

It wasn't until her mother pulled away to get something out of her pocket that the silence was broken. "Take this," She said while trying to wipe tears from her eyes. In her hands was a simple silver pocket watch, with golden accents, and a silver chain. She could make out an impression on the face of the watch, a loris.

The loris was sort of a humiliation to the Capitol. They had created during the first Rebellion, with the purpose of spying on the District Rebels. However, the lorises were great judge of character. They learned quickly that the Captiol was corrupt and ended up switching sides halfway through the war. When the Capitol found out about this, any loris that was seen was killed without hesitation.

Deryn slipped the pocket over her head, and smiled at her mom. "Thank you," she mumbled.

Jaspert looked at the watch, and then turned to their mother. "Wasn't that Da's?"

When their mother nodded, Deryn's hand tightened around the watch. Their father had died two years ago, in a fire. She had been with him when the fire started, in a barn. He wanted to teach her how to throw knives better, because it was her second year eligible for the Reaping. Plus, he wanted to make sure all the animals were tucked in properly. Suddenly, a lantern was overturned by one of the animals, and the place was set ablaze.

Her father had pushed her through the door just as it was collapsing. She managed to get out, but her father was trapped inside to burn to death.

There was a knock on the door, signaling that their time was almost up. Her mother hugged Deryn quickly, while her brother tried to smile. "You better come back, you hear me?"

Deryn couldn't help but chuckle, "I barking intend to, you bum-rag."

The Peacekeeper opened the door, and her family walked out. It was only a few minutes when it opened again, and Eugene walked inside calmly. He sat down across from her, and said, "Well, I can honestly say I wasn't expecting this."

She rolled her eyes, "Well I can barking agree to that." She wiped her hands on her dress. "How the _hell _am I supposed to survive in there? I'm not a Career! I didn't train like they do!"

"Yes but you hunt to protect the herd," He pointed out. "You know how to fight and defend yourself. You're just as good as they are, if not better. You're quick, strong, and pure dead clever." When she tried to speak up, he ignored her completely. "You'll do fine. Don't forget to make some sort of alliance. And don't stick around for the bloodbath, that's how our tributes got killed last year."

"Well, we have to admit that those tributes weren't exactly the brightest kids," She mumbled under her breath. Eugene snorted, and she smirked.

The Peacekeeper opened the door, they must have missed the warning knock, and hoisted Eugene up by the arm. The two of them walked out, leaving Deryn alone.

Nobody else came inside, but they didn't claim her right away. Dylan must have had more visitors than her, so she had a little while to gather her thoughts.

She began to pace the room, going through every scenario that could happen at the Cornucopia. She could try and get a weapon, but there might not be any of those. Plus, if there was a faster tribute, she could be killed before she reaches anything of value to her. However, if she just turned and fled, she'd be left with nothing to live off of. That would be almost as bad. She remembered the year in which the only safe food was from the Cornucopia.

A Peacekeeper came in, and gestured for him to follow, drawing her out of her thoughts. She sighed, and walked into the hall, where Dylan and another Peacekeeper were waiting. They were led outside where a large train was waiting for them.

* * *

**Well, I don't think I did Deryn all too well. And, this chapter was kind of rushed compared to the first two. But here it is! **

**MyNameIsAwesome: Ah, cool! :D Thanks! **

**AngelRule****s****TheWorldWeLiveIn: Actually, neither! Her mentor is Mr. Rigby! Since he watches over the midshipman on the Leviathan, it makes sense for him to watch over the tributes. Barlow is the escort for her, while Jaspert is still in District 10! See you in Chapter Four!**

**See you all in Chapter Four!**

**-Jules**


	4. Chapter 4

**The Odds Have Never Been Very Dependable **

**Chapter Four: Deryn**

Deryn and Dylan followed the Peacekeepers onto the train with identical indifferent faces. It wasn't a far walk from the Justice Building to the station, probably only a few minutes really, but it seemed much longer. The moment they stepped outside, they were swarmed by reporters and cameras. She wondered if she looked like a ninny on the television screens, but decided against looking for one to check.

When they'd finally arrived at the train, they stood for pictures for only a squick, before heading inside. The train set off immediately, but Deryn hardly noticed. She was too busy staring at the interior. It was grand, nicer than anything she'd seen in District 10. The walls were metal, steel she assumed, but the floors were polished and wooden. Most of the furniture were metal, but still managed to keep a certain elegance. A glass chandelier hung from the ceiling, accompanied with a few other florescent lights. Beside her, she spotted that Dylan was also staring in awe.

Nora cleared her throat. Deryn and Dylan turned to their escort. "Dinner will be in an hour. Until then, you are free to do what you wish. I expect you to be in the dinning car, this car, at five o' clock sharp." When the two of them nodded, she continued. "Your rooms are in the cars behind us. Your mentor will be joining us at dinner so you can talk about strategies. I shall see you two in a little while." She nodded at them, and bustled off through the door at the other end of the car.

Deryn shifted awkwardly. She stood with Dylan for a few moments, until he turned and headed into the other cabin, leaving her alone to decide how she was going to pass her time. She wasn't sure what she was going to do for the hour. Changing clothes seemed pointless, considering they'd be in the Capitol soon, and then undergo preparation for the Tribute Parade. Anything she put on would just be tossed away. The least she could do, however, was take a nice, long, shower.

Which is what she exactly intended to do.

She turned on her heel, and followed Dylan through the door. There was a small hall with two doors on either side. One, she assumed, was for Dylan, and the other for her. When she tried both doors, only the one on the left was unlocked, which she assumed was now her room for the next few hours.

When she entered the room, she almost spun right back out. There was no way this room was for _her_. It was too...nice. Nicer than even the dining car. Like the previous car, the floors were a dark, polished wood. However, the walls were wallpapered, reminding her a lot of the room the Justice Hall put her in. There were a two windows along the other wall, just enough to let in the perfect amount of natural light. On one of the side wall was a door she assumed led to the bathroom. The furniture looked like it belonged in the Capitol itself, not in a room she'd only see once!

She looked at the room in awe for a squick longer before shaking off her daze, and heading to the bathroom. It took her a little while to figure how to use the shower, but she finally managed to find the hot water setting after pressing a ton of buttons. She undressed quickly, and set her clothes aside so they didn't get too wet from the shower, before jumping into the shower. Hot water was rare in District 10, and she was determined to enjoy this luxury.

Once she was done, she slid out of the shower and dried off. The towels were soft, and she wondered what they were made out of. Back in her District, almost every part of an animal was given to the Capitol, this included pelts and fleeces. Wool was almost always in high demand.

After changing back into her original outfit, she walked out of her stateroom and back into the dining car. Inside, Dylan sat on one of the couches watching the television, and an older man sat next to him. He had brown hair, and a five o' clock shadow. His attire was slightly formal, with black slacks, a white shirt and suspenders. It took her a second to realize that this was their mentor, and one District 10's few Victors, Clyde Rigby.

"Well, she joins us!" He said when he turned and spotted her walking over. "Well don't just stand there gawking, come over here. We're about to watch the other Reapings, and check out your competition."

Deryn crossed the room, and took a seat on the other couch and watched the screen as the District 1 tributes were announced.

"That Riva girl looks tough," Dylan mumbled. "Not so sure about that Aleksander bloke, though. He looks a bit soft."

Clyde shook his head, "He volunteered, which means he must be confident in his abilities. Nobody in the Trained districts volunteer out of the goodness of their hearts."

The Trained Districts were Districts 1, 2, and 4. The Districts that taught their children and raised them to be killing machines. Deryn knew that they had other names in the different districts: Careers, Victors, Acolytes. In District 10, they were referred to as a Trained. In almost every Hunger Games, they were the Victors.

She looked at the screen curiously, watching the boy from District 1 volunteer for some thirteen-year-old boy. The older boy, Aleksander, Dylan called him, had reddish brown hair that looked naturally slicked back, like he'd run his hands through it too often. He had fair skin and really dark, emerald green eyes.

_I wonder if he's going to be the one to kill me,_ she thought bitterly.

The news anchors commented for a little while longer about the District 1 tributes, before they moved onto the next District. The girl tribute was only twelve, and had long, curly brown hair named Pansy. Deryn felt a pang of sympathy for the girl. Despite being a Trained, she was still only twelve. The shock and fear was evident on her face. Nonetheless, however, she walked up to the stage. When nobody volunteered, they drew the next tribute. Robert Fitzroy.

A boy walked up to the stage, and Deryn knew she despised him. The way he walked, the way he held himself with such self-importance, as if he was the most important creature to ever grace the face of Panem.

"Well, he looks like an ass," She spat, glaring at the television. Clyde laughed.

"I agree completely," He said. "But he also looks like a tough competitor. Watch out for him."

There was a cough behind them, and the all turned around to see Nora standing by the table. "Would you all care to join me, or am I going to be dining alone?"

The three of them smiled sheepishly, and walked to the table to join her. They continued to play the television, occasionally getting a glimpse of a tribute. There were a few who stuck in her head, a girl from District 9 that looked small, but physically fit. Deryn guessed she'd be able to use a sickle in the arena pretty well. As well as a girl from District 4, with long black hair and at the age of fourteen.

However, the tribute that stuck in her mind the most was the last one, the boy from District 12. He was eighteen, with a slim, but tall build. He had olive skin, a mess of black hair, and when the cameras zoomed into his face, she realized he had startling gray eyes. Despite the severe difference in appearance, Deryn couldn't help but think of her brother when she watched him make his way up to the stage.

"So," Clyde said as he set his silverware down and gently pushed the plate away. "Strategies. Does anybody have any?"

Dylan and Deryn shared a glance before saying, "Stay away from the bloodbath."

Their mentor raised an eyebrow. "Well, aye. That's clever, but what if the only safe food to eat is at the Cornucopia? Or you don't have anything to keep you warm at night." When Dylan began to speak, Clyde interrupted. "Now, I'm not saying go charging into the bloodbath with your banners waving, ready to bathe in the blood of the fallen. That's dead stupid. What I am saying is, though, don't be afraid to grab something off the edges. It might just save your life, plus it'll show sponsors you've got the guts to survive.

"Also, what skills do you two have?" He asked. When he got blank looks in return, Clyde rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on, there's got to be something you two are good at that'll help you in the arena."

Deryn shifted in her chair awkwardly before saying, "I can throw a knife pretty good."

She heard Dylan scoff beside her. "More than pretty good from what I hear," He said. "You have perfect aim near every time."

Clyde nodded, "Aye, that'll help you in the arena. What about you, lad? Any secret skills?"

"Not that I know of, sir," Dylan shrugged. "My mum was a healer, back in our District. I know a few remedies and herbs, plus some edible plants, but that's about it. I can climb pretty well, too."

Their mentor nodded, "That's good, too. Don't underestimate knowledge. Might just save your hide." He turned to Deryn and asked, "Can you climb?"

"Aye," She nodded. "Well enough."

"All the better," He looked at them for a moment, then added, "You two are both attractive enough, too. I think Ms. Barlow and I can scrape up a few sponsors for you. What do you think, Nora?"

Nora nodded, "Yes, I think we can. Not many, though. The wealthy districts have most of the people in the Capitol betting on them already. A few, however, I think we can manage."

"A few is good enough for now. As we go on, we'll be able to get more. Sponsors come flooding after the scores are released," Clyde said as he got up from the table. "Now, both of you, get some sleep. We'll be arriving at the Capitol soon enough. You should be ready for your designers." He took one more swig from his glass, before walking out of the room towards the Sleeping Car.

Over the course of a half an hour, one by one, they all departed from the Dining Car until it was just Deryn. She was pacing slightly, thinking of a possible plan that she could use in the Arena. She was too nervous to sleep, anyways. She kept wondering what her mentor would force her to wear during the parade. Probably a cow suit, like they'd done every year beforehand. Or maybe dress them up like pigs. Whatever it was, it couldn't be good.

Eventually, she grew tired and stumbled her way back to her room, collapsing onto her bed without even changing. The bed itself was softer than the one she shared with her mum back at home. She rolled in it for a moment, kicking her shoes off and pulling the covers over her. Before she knew it, her eyelids were drooping. After a few more moments of getting comfortable, she finally managed to fall into a peaceful sleep.

* * *

**Hurk, here you all go. Sorry for the long wait, I was struck with a major case of Writer's block. It's still affecting me, too. **

**Next chapter, the fic returns to Alek's point of view. You'll get to see his reaction to Deryn! **

**See you all (hopefully) soon!**

**-Jules**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five - Alek **

Alek really wasn't much interested in the other District Reapings. He hardly paid attention when they showed him volunteering for Ernst, and outright ignored the commentary by the reporters. All he remembered from the second district was that their male tribute looked like a bit of a prick. He looked pretty strong, though, which was both a blessing and a curse. Often tributes from wealthy districts teamed up and killed off everybody else one by one, before turning onto each other. Hopefully he'd be as dim as the others back in District 1.

The other Districts went by in a bit of a blur. The others commented on them occasionally, but they mostly just said numbers. He knew what they were doing, and it sickened him. They were judging how easy it would to kill them. They gave the two tributes from District 8 both twos. Riva complained that they would probably be a one in the end, but Volger hushed her.

"Never underestimate your opponent," He told her. "You never know what they may be hiding." Riva huffed, and turned back to the television as the District 10 Reaping began. As always, they started with the female tribute. This year's was named Deryn Sharp.

The camera focused on a girl in the middle of the crowd. At first, she was surprised but then quickly gained her composure and walked as calmly to the stage. As she slipped from her age group, he was able to get a good look at her. She was tall and slender, with boyishly cut sandy blonde hair. Her skin was pale, but he wasn't sure if that was because she was terrified, or if she was just naturally that color. But what startled Alek the most was how blue her eyes were. They weren't like Riva's, whose eyes were always cold. They were clever, and, under different circumstances, he could've said they were downright mischevious. However, that didn't hide the panic she was obviously containing.

"Ten," He found himself saying. The others looked at him with a frown. "She's going to be the hardest to kill. A ten."

"Really?" Riva scoffed. "She looks more like a four, if you ask me." She shrugged her shoulder. "In all honesty, are they sure she's a girl? Looks awful lot like just a boy in a dress to me."

The female mentor smiled, "What makes you think she's a ten, Alek?"

Alek shrugged. He really didn't know why. "Her composure," He bluffed. "All the other tributes who looked like decent competition barely could keep their composure. She, on the other hand, looks relatively calm."

Volger and the other mentor were nodding, while Riva rolled her eyes. "Well, as long as she doesn't take any of our kills," she mumbled, turning back to the screen. An older boy, a person Alek assumed was her brother, was fighting against two Peacekeepers to reach Deryn, but she continued walking towards the stage. When she arrived, they called out the male tribute, a boy who looked near identical to her named Dylan. The two of them were escorted into the Justice Building, and the Announcers began talking again.

"Well, _that _was interesting!" One of them, Eddie Malone, said. "What do you think, Adela? Could District 10 provide this year's Victor?"

A female voice spoke up, sounding a bit bored. "You never know, Eddie. Their last Victor was a surprise victory. Who knows what we can expect from these young tributes."

The Announcers continued to talk, until the program ended. The Reapings for the last two Districts would come later that day, but Alek wasn't intending to watch.

"I'm going to bed," He announced, standing from his chair.

"But it's still light out!" Riva protested with a pout. "And we haven't eaten yet. You can't be _really _tired, can you?"

Alek sighed, and began to make up an excuse for why he wanted to leave, until Volger spoke up. "I'm sure Aleksander just wishes to conserve his energy. He _is _going to need to look his best for the parade tomorrow. How can he do that when he's half asleep in the chariot?" He sighed. "Besides, there's never anybody interesting in the lower districts. He won't miss much."

Shocked, Alek began to turn back to the door. He couldn't believe his luck. Was Volger actually trying to help him?

"In fact," the older man continued. "I might leave myself. Sponsors frown upon drowsy mentors." He began to stand up, and Alek sighed. He knew there had to be a catch.

Volger walked quickly over to the door, and Alek sighed again, opening the door for the older gentleman. With a fake smile, Volger walked through the door and into the following car. Fortunately, this was the sleeping car where Alek's room was located.

As Alek walked forward in the hall to reach the door, Volger quickly stepped in front of him, blocking his path. The older gentleman looked down on Alek with a patronizing frown. "You're going to have to learn better than that if you want to convince anyone in the arena," He told Alek. "It may have convinced Ms. Castlefall, and her mentor, but it will never convince another tribute."

Before Alek could speak up, Ernst continued. "However, I believe you were right in calling that District 10 girl a ten. So, I supposed you aren't completely hopeless." He shrugged, and stepped out of the younger boy's way. "I supposed we'll just have to wait and see." Without another word, the man turned and walked ahead to the next car, where Alek assumed the mentors' rooms were.

Alek stood in the hall for a moment, watching the man disappear behind the sliding door in shock. With a shake of his head, he pulled the door to his compartment open and walked through, running a hand through his hair. Now, not only did he have to deal with twenty-three other people out for his blood, but a strict, and more-than-slightly rude mentor.

_Just get some rest_, he thought to himself. _You're gonna have a long day tomorrow._

**Okay, so I have no right to say I'll post again soon or anything. This is an insanely short chapter because, I felt like if I continued to add the parade/makeover scene, it would become way too long way too fast. **

**I really apologize for the four month hiatus.**

**My friend has yelled at me for waiting to write, so you all can thank her for this chapter**

**So sorry again. **

**-Jules**


End file.
